


Tales of the Old Blood

by the_river_person



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Gen, More Blood, Original Character(s), look up bloodborne for more information if you want
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:10:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_river_person/pseuds/the_river_person
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Heir to the ritual of blood, purveyor of ministration. Place your hand on the altar's sacred covering, and inscribe Master Laurence's adage upon your flesh."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (If you’ve never played Bloodborne, some references may go over your head, but I’m writing it so that you don’t need any previous experience with Bloodborne to know what is going on. If you have any experience or sorta know the lore, consider yourself enlightened)
> 
> If you see this message, this means this is still being updated/written! Come back later for more chapters!

He first heard of its powers six months ago in in Bacre.

It honestly sounded like a myth at first. Almost as real as the pixies and dragons in children's stories. They claimed this “magic blood” cured all curses and purified every impurity. The blood came from ancient beings, strange inhuman creatures that had learned to ascend above mortal beings long ago. They chose the rather trite name of “Old Blood” for it, but it’s reputation is unprecedented. Everyone seemed to be traveling to Yharnam just for a pint of this Old Blood. 

He was skeptical obviously. He dismissed it, said it was just drugs mixed with pig blood. Everybody was so euphoric from the chemicals that they mistake illusions for miracles.

That is until, he witnessed it firsthand.

This was four months ago, when his youngest sister fell ill. All the color and life were seemingly sucked out of her. No one knew what kind of darkness was taking her, however it was clear that it was winning. His father, the Archduke of Bacre, hired every doctor, scientist, and alchemist that money could buy. Through kind words, they all said it was a lost cause. Many of them could not diagnose the root of the problems, and most didn’t even know where to begin. It seemed that in those times, there was always some professional in his sister’s bedroom, running tests and prescribing foreign medicine for her. Nothing was working.

It wasn’t until a priest from the Healing Church came however, did her condition change for the better.

He didn’t seem to be particularly spectacular. He was an older, balding gentleman with a coal black frock coat that seemed to swallow up his small form. His silver rimmed spectacles were oddly balanced on his crooked nose, and his stovepipe hat had seen younger, better days.

Under his frock coat however, were the elegant robes of the Healing Church. A place of prestige and power in Yharnam, where people rumored to be reborn. “Place you hands on the altar’s sacred covering, and inscribe Master Laurence’s adage upon your flesh” they said.  
The priest claimed he could heal all illnesses, and the Archduke’s daughter was no exception. All she needed, he said, was a bit of blood.

He was right.

Her color returned to her face almost instantly. The day after the treatment, she could be found strolling through the gardens, practically re-filled with life. People were astounded, demanding to know where they could get this blood. The priest’s response was Yharnam.

Now the archduke’s eldest son, Aaron, sat in a carriage. Only 20 minutes away from Yharnam, the archduke sent him to the Church of Healing to establish a trade agreement. This “Old Blood” was a sudden demand in Bacre, and the Archduke feared his people would leave Bacre and move to Yharnam to acquire it. Aaron was traveling with over £50 worth of offerings. Tapestries, treasures, and trinkets from far and distant lands. As Aaron’s father put it, he was “sweetening the deal.”

While admittedly impressed by the blood’s magic, Aaron wasn’t exactly overjoyed to be traveling. This “vacation” would most likely consist him shaking hands and smiling, putting on a show for the Healing Church. He further figured Yharnam will be a zoo of disease ridden and blood thirsty peasants. 

Aaron peered out the carriage window to find only darkness and deep woods. They were arriving an hour after dusk, and what light was made cast strange shadows out of the scraggly trees. From what he could see, Yharnam was a mass of towering spires off in the distance.

“Only a couple minutes now sir!” The coachman shouts from the front of the carriage. 

Aaron huffed and continues to stare out the window. Yharnam’s countryside had grown unexciting very quickly, and he forgot to bring reading material for the ride. Dismal, curving trees roll by slowly, forming a sinister and unwelcoming forest. Everything looks so hollow and so dead. Nothing is—

Something dashed through the underbrush.

It looked hairy, misshapen, alien almost. It had a mutt's muzzle and fangs, but stood on it two legs. Aaron watched it flash a wild-eyed glance at the carriage as it strolled by, but that thing kept running. It escaped in the bushes, never to be seen again.

Alarmed, Aaron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. What he saw was not human nor animal. It was something worse, much worse than a hound or wild creature.

It was an unsightly beast.


	2. Chapter 2

10 bell chimes rang out in the distance, echoing into the quiet night. 

In the heart of Yharnam, the coach slowly cut through the crowds of people like a sail boat goes through water. Aaron looked out the window to see the faces of hundreds shuffle by him. Paupers and priests walk by in masses with the occasional nobleman here and there. Some saunter, while most hurry through the crowds.

Aaron notices the diversity of classes almost immediately. Inverness capes and wide brimmed hats hid the common people’s faces, while the hooded robes of priests and the bright smoking jackets of the rich could not be missed. Several passerbies carried open flame torches and some even lugged large, bloody blades. Aaron decided that not asking about them was the best idea.

The coach slowed momentarily before turning right into an alleyway. Free from the crowded streets, the coach resumed its swift speed and rode deeper into the city. The coachmen guided the horse drawn carriage around a bend, and approached a small group of priests at the end of the road.

All of the five gentlemen waiting wore the robes of the Healing Church. One priest decorated in a golden, jeweled necklace stepped forward and flagged down the coach, gesturing with one hand towards the side of the road. The coachman, following his lead, steered the cart off to the side and pulled the reins, slowing the horses.

Impatient and anxious, Aaron let himself out of the cart and descended out onto the cobble road. The five men advanced towards Aaron, forming a small semicircle in front of him. The necklace bearing priest spoke first.

“I presume you are the ambassador of Bacre, yes?”

Aaron bowed his head before the priest, “Aaron Cooke, Heir to the Bacre throne and the only son of the Bacre Archduke Lloyd Cooke, at your service. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

The necklace priest lowered his head, “Father Hendrick Foster of the Healing Church, and these four are the closest of my inner circle.” Father Foster gestured towards the other four men, and they kneeled in respect. Father Foster turned back towards Aaron and smiled. 

“I am so delighted to hear that Bacre wishes to fund the Healing Church. We are a non-profit after all, and the money really helps.”

Aaron smirked and noded to Father Foster’s jewel encrusted necklace “Well you clearly seem to be a very lucrative non-profit.” 

For a brief second, the priest’s smile twitches “The people of Yharnam are very generous Master Cooke. It is this kind of benevolence that made Yharnam what it is today. The Old Blood has given more than just health, but prosperity! It has saved this town Master Cooke, and the citizens of Yharnam owe it their lives. Quite literally, in some cases.”

Unconvinced, Aaron lowered and shook his head. Something was bothering him, but he couldn’t tell what. The blind faith people put into this Old Blood? This power the Healing Church had? That monstrosity he saw earlier? He dismissed his worries and noticed a young gentlemen in simple robes running towards them.

Father Foster turned to face the runner, clearly displeased. “What is the meaning of this? I’m in a meeting!”

The runner stopped before the priest, dropped onto his knees, and panted for a moment.

“Sorry holy one, but an issue has-”

Father Foster silenced him with a wave of his hand. He momentarily glanced back at Aaron, then excused himself for a moment. He and the messenger walked a few feet out of earshot and started whispering wildy. The man in simple robes was visibly terrified of something, and Father Foster looked more and more worried as the messenger went on.

Aaron tried to listen in, but all could catch was the name “Gehrman.”

A few moments later, Father Foster returned to the group with the messenger. He looked towards his inner circle and nodded an unspoken command. Father Foster turned to then address Aaron.

“I’m sorry Master Cooke, but it seems a matter of importance has arisen. I’m terribly sorry, but we must do this another time. Jonathan will take you to your loft for the night.”

One member of the inner circle, presumably Jonathan, stepped forward. Father Foster told him the address, bid his inner circle and Aaron goodbye, and began to take his leave.

“But Father Foster,” Aaron called “we have unfinished business!”

Father Foster continued in his departure, not listening.

****

Aaron was indignant the entire walk to his loft.  
Jonathan was too scared to talk to Aaron, being that he was royalty and openly angry. The entire walk was bitterly silent, as Aaron tried to possibly conceive what “matter of importance” dare overstep the heir of Bacre. He was nobility! His name alone was worth more than anyone in this land!

They eventually stopped at a vacant pub, one that appeared to be under renovations. Scaffolds and flimsy, cotton covers hugged the pub exterior. Aaron noticed the figures of splintered wood and smashed furniture through the covers. It seemed like a window was shattered in whatever mishap ruined this pub.

Jonathan guided Aaron around the side of the building and to the back of the pub. Producing a key, Jonathan unlocked the back door and went through an empty kitchen to the front bar. Aaron followed suit.

The damage, now clearly visible, was perplexing to Aaron. He had seen what damages bar fights had produced in Bacre, but this was unreal. Most of the tables and chairs were in pieces, scattered widely among the floor. He noticed the old, crusty, and dried blood stains that were smeared across the floor and what remained of a beer keg. The room had been battered greatly, and most of the furniture was irreclaimable. The scariest discovery however, were massive claw marks that gouged a support beam. 

Aaron traced his fingers across the marks, “I don’t believe people grow claws in a bar fight. What happened here?”

Jonathan claimed he did not know, as legal matters were not in his line of work. He brought Aaron through the debris and to a hatch near the shattered keg. He lifted the hatch, revealing a staircase down into a basement. Following behind Jonathan, Aaron descended.

To Aaron’s surprise, someone had cleared a small area in the center of the basement for a makeshift bedroom. A cot was placed in the centermost part of the room, with a small nightstand and a luggage stand beside it. Candles had been arranged on the crates of beer around the bed to provide light. Jonathan faced Aaron and bowed.

“His holiness sends you his deepest apologies, but the sudden visit did not allow the Healing Church time to book a hotel room. We did clean up this area for you however, and your luggage should arrive shortly. We are delighted to have you in Yharnam. Good day.”

Jonathan hurried out of the cellar, and left Aaron alone.

Aaron meandered towards the bed, taking in his surroundings. If this was the best the Healing Church could do, Aaron couldn’t imagine how packed this city must be. He still however felt cheated, he was royalty for God’s sake.

He removed his shoes and coat in front of the bed, then eased into it. Aaron figured that resting was the only thing he could do know, otherwise he would be sitting alone and waiting.

Aaron found that the cot was either incredibly comfy, or he was incredibly tired. While trying to decide, he further found that he was falling asleep.

****

Originally, Aaron thought it was just a large rat.

He was awoken several minutes ago by the sound of scratching from the ground floor above him. An animal was raking it’s claws across the wood planks, making an awful lot of noise. He could also hear the creature’s heavy, uneven breath. 

Then something struck him as odd.

The floorboards were creaking. Normally he wouldn’t have questioned it, as many older building’s floors groan when stepped on. But what kind of rat weighs enough to cause that level of stress?

Aaron decided to ignore it, presuming that maybe it was a stray, obese dog instead.

Then a blood drop fell on him.

It came from above him, and crash landed directly into his right cheek. He was stunned, and not quite sure what to do next. It wasn’t until another blood drop fell on his collar shirt did he look up. 

A relatively large patch of the floorboards was now soaked with blood, and little droplets of blood were forming in the empty space between the planks. Whatever this animal killed was spilling so much blood that it stained the planks and leaked blood through the cracks. 

Aaron lay disgusted, petrified, and immobilized in the cot. He heard something move above again, followed by the wretched sounds of chewing and ripping.

It had begun to feast.

Rising quietly, Aaron slipped on his shoes and coat. He creeped towards the staircase, stopping in front of it when he realized he was unarmed.

He scanned the cellar to find that someone had left a rather large blade leaning on a crate behind the stairs. Aaron tip toed towards it and picked it up.

The blade was as long as his forearm and the handle made it easy to swing. He wasn’t sure why a pub would need a weapon like this, but he didn’t care now. There was a more pressing matter to focus on.

Aaron returned to the stairs and looked up. He could hear that the creature was still eating, but now he heard crunching. This thing was eating bone.

Aaron drew a sharp breath in, and moved up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

Lifting the hatch slightly, Aaron looked out through the crack and saw the monster.

It was a hideous thing, crouching in front of a corpse and feeding. Aaron realized this beast was similar to the one he had seen run by earlier. Matted, wild, black fur covered it from head to toe. It’s snout and front paws were stained with blood, and it’s eyes were transfixed on its meal. It tore through its prey mercilessly, spraying blood everywhere as it yanked flesh off the bone with its great jaws.

Aaron had been hunting before, and knew that this was his best shot. It was engrossed in its dinner, and had no idea what would hit it. Aaron lifted the hatch all the way up gently, and stepped up onto the pub floor. He softly sneaked up to the creature, leveling the blade to the demon’s head.

The dumb animal, slobbering and eating away, did not hear Aaron at all.

Now only a foot away from the creature, Aaron drew his arm back. The monster had buried its face inside the empty chest cavity of the body.

When the beast perked his head up to see what was happening, it was already too late.

Aaron swung down diagonally, slicing a deep cut into the thing’s neck. It flipped onto its back howling, confused, and trying to recollect. Aaron didn’t give it the chance, slamming the blade down onto the beast’s head. The blunt side of the blade shattered the monster’s skull and reduced the head to mush. The poor thing died with a yelp.

Aaron stood before the dead monster and corpse, shaking. He looked at his weapon, now bloody, and examined his clothing. In his final blow, blood and what looked like brain bits had spewed all over him. He grumbled quietly, “I got blood on my favorite shoes.” 

Aaron wiped the brain chunks and other pieces of the beast off of him and looked towards the creature’s kill. Now up close, he could make out the face of the victim.

It was his coachman.

Aaron saw his three luggage bags two feet from the body, left in a pile on the floor. Judging from the location of the body and the luggage, the coachman was bringing in Aaron’s luggage, encountered this atrocity, dropped the luggage, and ran for the exit. He clearly wasn’t fast enough.

Aaron decided that first, he would grab a new outfit from his bags. He walked over to them and rummaged for some particular items. He fished out a black coat, his favorite black tricorn hat, black boots, new black pants, a new shirt, and some leather gloves. Aaron thought this would do just fine.  
He then concluded that this blade, while cumbersome, will work out best. These creatures were too large for a kitchen knife, and until he could acquire more professional gear, the blade will do just fine. 

If the coachman got here, Aaron presumed that the coach itself would be just outside. He figured that he would head to the Healing Church and figure out what was going on.

The first problem in his plan occurred when he went outside.

The coach had been flipped over, and the two horses that pulled it were nowhere to be found. In their place, torn reins sat in a pool of blood. Aaron saw streaks of blood going away from the pool and carriage, suggesting whatever got to the horses had gone elsewhere to dine.

The second problem in his plan was that there didn’t seem to be just two monsters.

To his far right, Aaron could see a small band of these animals prowling around a body in the middle of the street. To his far left, Aaron saw another carriage that was not overturned, but the horses were gone as well. Four large mutts were eating something next to the carriage, and each looked rabbid. Aaron listened to the howls and screeches of demons from all around him. What was once a city was now a zoo.

The third problem in his plan was he wasn’t sure where to go.

He knew he could recognize the church once he saw it, but he had not paid attention to where his adventure took him when he entered Yharnam. The increased tourism and immigration made this city huge and crowded. One could get lost easily in this city.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out to his left.

The all of the dogs but one scattered instantly, running away from the noise. The one dog that did not flee however, crumpled to the ground. A figure walked out from the shadows and to the dead mutt.

Aaron almost cried in happiness when he saw it was a human

The being wore a long, gray tattered coat and had greying hair. He clutched a rather large gun close to him and examined the dog. Pulling a small knife from behind his coat, he cut into the dog’s stomach and proceeded to pick through it. The man smiled, and lifted out a necklace from the dog’s belly.

Aaron, not caring enough to question it, strolled towards the figure waving his free hand.

“Excuse me sir! I require some assistance!”  
The man, startled by Aaron, whipped his head up at him. Aaron continued talking.

“I just need some directions to the Healing Church, but I would love an escort!”

The man fumbled his gun for a moment, and then pointed it at Aaron. Aaron stopped dead in his tracks. The gentlemen shook the gun at Aaron, making him back up several steps. The man, now shaking with adrenaline, shouted back at Aaron.

“Shoo! Shoo tainted one! Be gone!”

He pointed his gun down at Aaron’s feet and shot once, causing Aaron to jump back. Aaron turned on his heel quickly and ran the other way, dodging the missing shots the old man fired at him.

He darted past the band of beasts he saw earlier. All of them craned their necks up to see Aaron run, but then one of them jolted and collapsed onto the floor. One stray shot had caught it directly in the head. The rest of the creatures turned to face the attacker and saw the old gentleman firing wildly. They cried out, and ran down at him. Aaron slowed down briefly and looked back to see what would occur.

The old man, now out of shots, cursed loudly and unsheathed a sickle. Before he could raise it, the demons all at once rushed upon him, tearing at his clothes and body. The crowded around and shredded him, muffling his scream with their barking and wails. Blood sprayed out of the man like fountain.

Aaron swallowed hard, turned away, and sped up again. He raced into the night, guided by the moonlight and torches that illuminated the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact, the name Aaron actually was inspired by Arin from Grame Grumps. Their play through of it was my introduction to Bloodborne, and I loved the game ever since.


	4. Chapter 4

Aaron sat in silence on a park bench, surrounded by dead crows.

He did not know how far or how long he ran, but he ended up in a small park. As he went to sit down on a bench, a murder of crows ironically tried to kill him. Luckily, they were not very coordinated, and he made quick work of them.

Now he sat, shaking and heaving hard. His body shuddered and shivered, exhausted from his endeavors. There was blood all over him, mixing with his sweat and tainting his expensive clothes. The pungent smell of the blood sickened him to the core. He resisted the urge to pass out and every impulse to cry out. Any loud noises may draw more attention to himself. 

His mind, now sinking in dread and distress, was faring no better than his body. He allowed a man to die painfully, and was surrounded by death. 

Every so often, Aaron would hear a distant scream. Each one was not only unique, but came from a person. A human being who had a name and a personality. All those screams were the last cries from real people, people who had lives and probably families. A mother, father, son, daughter, doctor, teacher, and or a child made those screams. They reverberated off the walls of his mind rattled his conscious. 

The sights were no better. Chaos and disorder had swept Yharnam, causing widespread destruction. Buildings burned and crumbled, streets clogged up with abandoned carts and carriages, and the monsters of the night now ruled and scavenged the city. Bodies littered the street like trash, and the blood spilled saw no end. Aaron could not unsee the blood, the way it smeared and painted the world. It shined in the moonlight, and stuck like glue to everything it covered. He watched it drip from the bodies. He witnessed those animals bathe themselves in it. He gazed into his own, warped reflections in the shallow pools of it.

He wished to unsee all of it.

Aaron found himself worrying more and more and time went by. What would become of him? Would he be trapped in this hell forever? Will he die in this place? 

He took deep breaths and tried to compose himself. He needed to keep moving. He needed to find someone, anyone, who wasn’t trying to kill him.

Aaron rose from the bench and pushed forward, kicking a crow out of his path.

On his trek, he encountered more deranged citizens, some with pitchforks and some with torches. They made a grab for him, but he struck them down. He kept searching and scouring, cutting down anything that tried to stop him. He wanted answers.

He wanted the truth.  
His journey was interrupted however when he found a woman kneeling in the street.

She had a large build, twice the size of Aaron, and was dressed in the clothes of nuns. Her forearms were the size of oaks, and her hands were like boulders. Her nun apparel was ruined with blood and tears, stretched thin from her great size. The bruises and deep wounds shown she had been in many fights, and somehow Aaron knew most of the blood that covered her was not her blood.

She kneeled before a pile of bodies, with a crucifixed priest that draped on a cross above the pile. The woman was speaking prayers to herself, but it was in a foreign, unfamiliar tongue. Aaron steeled himself, and walked to her.

Without moving, she spoke aloud to him, “Have you come for forgiveness, my wayward child?”

Aaron said nothing, still walking towards her.

“I can give you the death you seek, my son. I will do it with my bare hands, and bury you with the other, forgiven children.”

Aaron still did not speak. He now stood several feet behind her, blade at the ready.

The nun looked up towards the crucifixed priest and sighed.

“I feel your spirit. It pulses with rage and hatred, screaming out obscenities and vulgarities. I know the sins you have committed, and I know you wish to be cleansed.”

Aaron’s stared at her, unflinching and not afraid.

“Please do not make me do this my straying son,” the woman said “I only wish to make your ascension painless.”

Aaron cracked his neck.

The nun looked down and the floor and sighed. She lifted herself up slowly, rising taller than great mountains. Her body legs buckled briefly, but once at full height, she did not struggle. Her shadow alone swallowed Aaron whole.

The nun spun around to face Aaron. Her makeup had dried and cracked, further worsening an already horrific face. She was bloated, but Aaron could only imagine how easily she could break stone. She had no weapons, for her enormous, hardened fists was all she needed. Aaron knew taking her down would be no easy task, and the bodies behind her reminded him of how many had failed to do what he now attempted.

The woman’s face scrunched up, and she spoke with malice, “My child, you must atone for your misdeeds. Whether you do so willingly or not is up to you. This is your final warning. Speak now, or I will do what I must.”

Aaron pulled his tricorn hat down over his eyes and shifted his feet into position.

The nun huffed and balled her fists. Aaron raised his weapon. He was ready.

The nun roared with anger and lumbered forward, hurling herself at Aaron.


	5. Chapter 5

Swiftly, Aaron rolled out of the woman’s path. She bulldozed past him and using her momentum, swung her fist down into the ground, pounding a gaping hole into the cobble roads. Aaron recovered quickly and advanced towards her. He dashed by her thigh, chopping a deep cut into it as he went by. The nun cried out in anger and frustration, growing impatient.

The nun swung her arm towards Aaron, and managed to knock him back 5 feet on his back. Unfazed, he rolled up off the floor. The woman bellowed with fury and charged at him again. This time, Aaron rolled through her legs, spun around, and drove the blade’s edge deep into her spin. She howled in pain, and frantically reached for the blade that was lodged in her spine.

Aaron struggled to pull the edge of the blade out, until finally one powerful tug released it. He fell onto the floor and tried to pick himself back up. 

The woman was faster.

She spun around, grabbed both of his legs in one hand, and hurled him across the street. Aaron crashed into bushes that lined what looked like a restaurant. Aaron’s world teetered and spun as he tried to regain his focus, but the impact knocked the wind out of him. The great woman lumbered towards him.

The nun chuckled deeply, taking one pounding step after another.

Boom. Boom.

“Oh how silly of me to pity you, demon child. I offer you my understanding, and this is how you repay me.” She wiped the sticking blood off her thigh and came closer.

Boom. Boom.

“What to do with insolent youth like you? Do I break your arms so you may never strike me again? Or do I tear your legs off so your sinful feet may never guide you astray again?”

Boom. Boom.

She was now only several feet from Aaron who lay sprawled in the bushes. He tried to run, tried to do anything, but his body wouldn’t move. 

Boom. Boom.

Now the great woman cackled, standing directly in front of Aaron. Her breath stung Aaron’s eyes, and made him gag.

“No, I must be respectful,” said the nun “I will end your life swiftly. That way, there will be one less devil plaguing this great world.”

The great woman lifted her foot and positioned it on Aaron’s body. He knew she wasn’t leaning her weight on him, but the pressure made it impossible to breath. She was going to crush him with her foot. The nun stared down at him, her face darkening.

“Die small one, die like the bug you really are.”

Aaron shut his eyes, and heard a yelp and the sound of flesh ripping.

But he did not yelp, nor did he feel pain.

He opened his eyes and saw a massive, shining blade, piercing through her stomach. The great woman, gasping, looked down at the blade. Aaron heard something grunt behind her, and watched as the blade hoisted the woman into the air, sending her crashing to the ground elsewhere. An older gentleman with a stove top hat and a massive, bloodied scythe stood where she once did.

Aaron blinked in disbelief.

He felt himself losing conscious. The woman must have done more damage than he thought. His eyelids and body were heavy and throbbed with pain. He was spitting blood onto his shirt like a baby spitting up its food.

The gentleman looked down at Aaron, unreadable. This man could end Aaron with one swipe of his great scythe. What was he doing?

He stepped towards Aaron and kneeled in front of him, leaning his weight on the scythe. He leaned in close to Aaron’s face.

“Rest now friend, you’ll need it for later.”

The man got back up to his feet and walked towards the woman’s corpse. Aaron tried to stay awake, but everything faded to black.

****  
Somehow, he wasn’t dead. Even though he sure didn’t feel like it.

Aaron slowly sat up and rubbed his face. He was incredibly sore and tired, but alive. He was laying on a medical cot, in what looked like a temporary infirmary.

A voice spoke out, “You slept like a little baby.”

Aaron flinched and saw the same old man sitting in a chair across from his bed. He was polishing a gun, carefully smoothing the barrel.

Aaron squinted at the gentleman and bombarded him with questions, “Who are you? Why are you helping me? Where the hell am I?”

The man chuckled, clearly amused. Aaron frowned, “Out with it! Who are you?”

Leaning the gun on the chair, the old gentleman rose and smoothed his button down shirt with his hands.

“I’m a bit hurt lad, I would think people would recognize me. I like to think I’m well known around here.”

Aaron shook his head, still squinting.

The old man took off his hat and brushed a strand of hair from his face. He met Aaron’s eyes and grinned.

“Why, I’m Gehrman, the first hunter.”


	6. Chapter 6

Aaron raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“And what of it? I’ve been hunting in Bacre for years.”

Gherman smirked, “Rabbit hunting is a bit different than beast hunting kid.”

“Deer are not beasts, Mr. Gherman.”

Aaron saw that Gherman was searching his eyes, seeking something. Sadly, what he seeked illuded Aaron.

“You must not be from here I presume?” Gherman asked.

“No, I am from Bacre. I am Aaron Cooke, Heir to the Bacre throne. I was here on a business trip but it seems your city is having a bit of an...issue.”

Gherman walked across the room and towards a window to the left of the bed. He pulled aside a curtain and scanned the city below them. Aaron could see a waning, crescent moon from where he lay in bed.

“The church never told you where the blood came from, did they? What it was or how they got it?”

Aaron never thought of it actually, but he was right. 

“I never look a gift horse in the mouth, especially one that cures everything.”

Gherman reached into his pocket and took out a small vial of blood. It gleamed bright crimson, and shimmered with strange light. 

“This blood comes from ancient beings,” Gherman explained “godlike creatures, whose thoughts have risen beyond simple men like you and me. The church's founders uncovered it from ruins beneath the city.”

Gherman fiddled with the vial’s cork, twisting it off carefully. He lifted the vial to his nose and inhaled deeply. Aaron himself could smell the blood’s aroma, giving him a strange sense of delirium.

“They brought the blood to the surface and began experimenting with it. This blood was not only found to be intoxicating, but gave great strength to those who took it. It could save the dying, strengthen any weapon, and sharpen the mind.”

Gherman brought the blood away from his face, and proceeded to spill the bottle on the floor. As it splattered, a faint hiss could be heard.

“What those founders didn’t realize was this: Perfection does not exist in this world. Those who seek perfection, will find only imperfections and disappointment. ”

Gherman looked back that the window, watching the moon.

“This blood turns man into monstrous, abominations that hunger for flesh. Every creature you see out there in the city was once like you. This blood curse is a disease, dooming everyone it infects.”

Aaron laughed quietly, “A little ironic if you ask me.”

Gherman ignored him and kept explaining, “So as the good doctors tried to concoct a cure, the Healing Church needed people to track down the turned beasts before they could cause trouble. Thus, the need for hunters.”

Gherman strode over to his scythe and picked it up, running his finger along the edge of the blade.

“Hunters are the quick-witted, skillful, and more importantly determined people of the world. We use our abilities to cleanse the night of demons and above all, protect the people. We do not hunt for sport, but rather for the comfort in knowing a monster is dead.”

Aaron’s eyes moved to Gehrman gun, processing Gherman’s words. 

“Why are you telling me all of this and more importantly, why did you save me?”

Gherman looked back into Aaron’s eyes, searching again briefly.

“You have the skills to be a hunter, and the will power to enter the Hunter’s Dream. We need more hunters out there, and I was hoping to recruit you. A new hunter could save tens, maybe hundreds of people.”

Aaron wasn’t sure what the Hunter’s Dream was, but laughed again anyway, “You are joking right?”

Gherman shook his head. His face was no longer smiling, but now dead serious.

Aaron sneered, “I am royalty! The heir of Bacre! That line of work is for the barbaric, hardy people of the world Mr. Gherman. I can not risk my life seeking out things that are so adamant about eating me.”

Gherman, still looking at into Aaron’s eyes, bit his lip. He was deep in thought, contemplating something. 

“I understand your decision Aaron. Just know that becoming one of us is always an option. I’ll take my leave.” Gherman began to collect his weapons and took his coat from a chair.

Aaron eyed Gherman nervously, “You are just going to leave me alone? Just like that?”

Gherman slid the scythe into a strap on his back, and slung his gun onto his shoulder. He dismissed Aaron with a wave of his hand.

“You are young Aaron, but I know you well. You have what it takes, whether you realize what it is or not.”

Gherman left through a door on the opposite wall of the window and disappeared down a hallway. Aaron mustered the strength to get out of the cot and hobble to the door, cursing as every step sent pain up his body.

By the time Aaron reached the door, Gherman was gone.

****

Aaron liked feeling tall.

When he was high above the world, he felt untouchable. Almost invincible, as he gazed out across the city. 

Aaron had climbed up a deserted chapel, and sat in its belltower. His legs dangled off the edge, and the wind rustled his tangled hair. He had looted some new clothes and weapons in his travels, and now wore a tattered trench coat over him. He still kept his leather gear, but he had since tailored metal plates into the leather on his calves and arms.

The moonlight on the city’s towers cast shadows of dark and twisted fingers. Aaron saw fires spreading like spilled water across the the city, consuming entire street blocks in embers. He watched the monsters move like herds of cattle throughout Yharnam. They seemed to move place from place, staying only to feed or rest.

He had lost track of how many monsters he killed on the way up here. Countless crazed citizens, malicious mutts, and blood-soaked beasts tried to stop him. Luckily, he had found a flintlock revolver and an axe, giving Aaron more lethality in combat. 

Aaron had even run into another hunter who complimented his weapon choice earlier. The hunter was named Gascoigne, and though rather pessimistic, seemed like a good guy. Gascoigne wielded a great axe and gun himself, and commended Aaron for his “good taste.”

Now, Aaron sat alone atop the chapel, collecting his thoughts. He needed a break from all the blood.

Gehrman’s words still echoed in his head. “Whether you realize it or not” stuck out in his mind like a sore thumb. Aaron felt no special power nor knew any special knowledge that would make him different. He had learned to sword fight for sport with his brothers once. There was no secret lesson the tutor gave, no ancient teachings that would have made him extraordinary. Yet somehow, Gherman knew something.

Aaron watched smoke rise from the fires in the distance. He watched the way the smoke spiraled up, dissipating into nothing. He wished his nagging thoughts would do the same and vanish.

Below him, Aaron heard a cry for help.

Aaron looked down, searching for the voice. He quickly found a man in the center of the chapel’s courtyard, surrounded by wicked, tentacle face demons. They were encircling him, preparing to strike all at once.

Aaron knew he couldn’t save him. Those monsters were seconds away from overwhelming this man. Aaron was not fast enough, and knew that trying to save him would only endanger himself.

And yet, Aaron jumped off the tower and onto the roof, sprinting along the roof’s arches as he raced to the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow updates. Not only is it finals week but Dark Souls 3 is really addicting and time consuming? Who would have thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Aaron’s boots clacked along the tiles and he ran along the chapel roof. Approaching the edge, he drew his axe and leaped up, crashing the axe and his weight down onto one of the tentacle creatures below. It cried out, crumbling beneath Aaron.

Stunned, the man stared at Aaron, The other monsters immediately turned to the noise, confused and aggravated.

With his hand still holding the axe still lodged into the monster beneath his feet, Aaron used his free hand to grab his gun. He fired once at the creature to the right and once again to the creature on his left. His first was a headshot, killing the creature immediately, but his second shot only wounded the left monster. It kneeled over, crying in pain.

The last demon, standing across from the one Aaron had fell on, growled and ran past the man in the middle to attack Aaron. Aaron did not skip a beat, ripping his weapon from the corpse and meeting the charging demon with the an axe. The upward chop flung the demon up and over Aaron and sent it crashing it behind him. These tentacle creatures were strangely light.

The injured monster lifted its head to finally advance. It hissed and its tentacles quivered.

Aaron sighed, lifted his gun, and shot the beat in the head effortlessly. The monster squeaked and collapsed. None of the creatures were able to touch Aaron.

The man, mouth agape, stared at Aaron. He was speechless. Aaron stepped off the creature’s corpse and walked toward the man.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies. Or whatever winged monstrosities fly in this city. ” Aaron said as he reloaded his revolver.

The man shook his head, “How did you do that? How did you fight so well?”

Aaron shrugged, “I took some fight and gymnastic classes for fun once.”

“But that doesn’t constitute—agh nevermind. Thank you for saving my life. I am Philip.” Philip extended his hand, and Aaron promptly shook it.

Philip clearly wasn’t a fighter, wearing scholarly robes and a formal button down. He did seem however, to be a survivor in that his tan overcoat was stained with blood and splattered with dirt. His triangular, unremarkable face was covered in scratches and dry blood stuck to a large cut on his cheek. His nose was awkwardly disproportionate, and it made his entire face seem contorted.

“I come from Byrgenwerth, and I got myself in quite the scrap. The things we do for research! All we want are blood samples! Not tentacle nightmares!”

Aaron ignored his rambling and peered down at one of the tentacle creatures. It’s face was disfigured from the bullet wound, but it seemed already disfigured to begin with. Thee creatures had the bodies and limbs of humans, but their chins sported a cluster of tangled, malformed tentacles. Thier skin shined a baby blue, but their blood was a muddy fuschia.

Philip watched as Aaron inspected the body, “Awful things, aren’t they?”

Aaron sighed, shaking his head dismissively, and made his leave. 

Philip called after him,“Please! You can’t just leave me here! I’m from Byrgenwerth!”

Aaron ignored him, and kept walking. Philip ran after him, grabbing his coat sleeve.

“My research can stop this outbreak! I can stop this infestation.”

Aaron stopped abruptly, turning his head slightly, “How so?”

Philip let go of Aaron’s sleeve and scratched his head, “The disease is centralized in the Old Blood. My colleagues and I seek methods of isolating the pathogen and neutralizing it. We are so close to a breakthrough! I just need to take my research back to Byrgenwerth in one piece.”

He reached inside his robes and produced a small handkerchief. Wrapped inside was small, bloody organ. Still pulsating, the strange intestine appeared to be incredibly fragile.

Philip’s eyes shone in the moonlight, “If you take me back to Byrgenwerth, I will not only promise you the cure, but give you some supplies. You’ll need everything you can get out here Hunter.” He extended his hand outward, waiting for Aaron to shake it.

“I’m not a hunter, but I’ll take the pay,” Aaron said as he shook Philip’s hand.

Philip beamed with happiness, “Excellent! Then off we go to Byrgenwerth!” Philip marched west down an empty street toward a huge castle in the distance. Aaron sighed and trekked after him.

****

From up above, on a lofty building across the chapel courtyard, a lone hunter watched the two.

The hunter was dressed in iron armor and gray robes, holding a towering spear in one hand and looking through binoculars in the other. The hunter’s gravel gray armor blended well with the building’s walls, so well that Aaron and Philip had no idea they were being watched.

The lone hunter lowered his binoculars and looked westward, squinting at a grand building far off in the distance.

Pocketing his binoculars and fastening the spear on a back strap, the hunter took off after the pair.


	8. Chapter 8

Chills went down Aaron’s spine as he followed Philip through Yharnam. He was rambling about the experiments, going on and on about the wonders of the Great Ones.

“...And their minds, oh their minds! Great thinkers like Willem can’t even compare to the thought the Great Ones have. To know what they know would push us into a new age! Just picture this: knowledge beyond your comprehension exists, and is practically waiting to be discovered. I’m shaking just at the thought of it!”

Aaron rolled his eyes, “I’m pretty sure that it is the cold Philip. I’m freezing out here.”

Philip pointed at small cottage beyond a bridge, “You are in luck then, cause that is where we will rest and regroup with my colleagues.”

A faded red cross was painted above the cottage door, signifying it was once a hospital. The brick walls were losing their bright colors, and were now a wet burgundy. Strangely, Aaron couldn’t see any light through the windows, nor any smoke coming from the chimney.

“Colleagues?” asked Aaron.

Philip nodded, “I went on this trip with several other gentlemen, and unfortunately I drew the short straw when we were deciding who would have to go out first.”

Both men walked up to the front door, but Philip cut ahead to get the door. He opened it for Aaron, gesturing him to come in. Aaron eyed him and stepped inside.

It wasn’t exactly grand on the inside, but it seemed like it gave a homely aurora once upon a time. There were no rooms, as the entire cottage was set up as an infirmary. The ceiling hung low and it seemed oddly vacant. There were no lights or life.

“So, I’m going to presume your friends are imaginary Philip.” 

Philip looked bewildered, scanning the room, “This doesn’t make sense, they were supposed to wait here. Damn it all, they said they would-”

Then the smell hit them.

Aaron had grown used to the smell of death after spending the last hours killing monsters in Yharnam, but this stench had a god awful twist. This odor was an abhorrent blend of mold and feces, with a small hint of what smelled like hot tar. Aaron covered his nose with his arm, while Philip recoiled backwards and pinched his nose.

“My god!” cried Philip, “What a dreadful smell!”

Aaron nodded in agreement and squinted in the darkness. He noticed there was something on the roof in the back of the room. It was a deep purple, and lumps of black spotted it. He originally thought it was just a large patch mold, but this grime was bubbling. The mass had these strange appendages, jutting out unevenly. Listening closely, Aaron heard churning noises. Worst of all, Aaron swore this thing was expanding outward across the ceiling.

Philip must have noticed as well, because he was furiously shaking Aaron’s arm and pointing at it. 

“Aaron! Aaron! That thing—it has—are those what I think it is?!”

Aaron didn’t understand at first, until he saw a human head submerged in the goo.

This thing and consumed the scientists, and it’s “appendages” were the misplaced legs and arms of the researchers. The “churning” Aaron had heard and the smell of corpses was this thing digesting it’s victims.

Philip doubled over, whispering “I think I’m going to be sick Aaron.”

Aaron grabbed Philip’s shoulder, “Pull yourself together! We should get out of here.”

The goo began dripping onto the floor.

Every drop was followed with a loud splat, and the corroding pieces of the doctors fell down with a sickening “plop.” The gelatin mess kept dripping down, faster and faster, until all of the goo was on the floor. 

Then it inflated.

The goop swelled like a pimple, bubbling and churning loudly. It rose several feet into the air, and towered over Aaron and Philip. Only several inches separated it from the roof. It grew 20 feet wide, almost making a wall across the room. The smell was overpowering.

From inside of the mess of limbs and slop, a horrific moan bellowed out.

Philip turned to Aaron, “You can kill that, right?”

Aaron wiped a bead of sweat off his foreword. He unsheathed his axe.

“I hope so.”


	9. Chapter 9

Lifting his axe, Aaron swiped at the goo. He cleaved a cut into the jelly creature, but his attack faded away almost instantly as the goo kept swelling. Aaron hacked at it again and again, only to find that he was making no progress. The thing kept regenerating, growing faster than he could cut away,

“Maybe we should try something else!” cried Philip from behind him.

Aaron cursed loudly and looked back at Philip.

“Well what ideas do you got genuis?!”

Philip ran his hand through his hair, mumbling frantically. Aaron rolled his eyes and returned his attention onto the monster. He found himself backing up and losing ground as the goop spread outward. He was running out of room fast, and needed something to actually put up a fight. Behind him, Philip snapped his fingers.

“Fire! Many of these heathens are afraid of fire! We will burn this monstrosity! Distract it Aaron!” Philip ran to the back wall where some crates were piled up and began to rummage through them.

Aaron turned back at the monster and kept swinging. He wasn’t hurting the goo, but it had to rebuild itself every time he chopped it down. He noticed that when he hacked pieces away from the blob, the pieces squirmed back toward it like worms. Surprisingly, he now found himself wanting to fight the mutts and crows again instead.

“There! Got it!”

A sudden bright light shone from behind Aaron. He looked back to see Philip holding a large torch with a bright fire blazing at the end. Philip rushed up past Aaron and waved the torch at the goo.

“Take this! And this! And that! And this”

The goo spiked backwards as the heat came up to it. It tried to circle around Philip and flank him, but his wild swings kept it in check. Philip forced the blob all the way back, pushing it against the far wall.

Aaron saw out of the corner of his eye a jug of kerosene leaning against a hospital bed. He glanced back at the monster, then back at the jug before snatching it. Aaron ran alongside Philip and dumped the jug onto the mass. He soaked the goop, covering it in kerosene.

Aaron chucked the empty jug at the monster for good measure, then turned to shake Philip.

“Light it!” yelled Aaron.

Philip released a war cry, and stuck the flaming end of his torch into the goo. 

There was a slight delay, then the monster exploded in flames.

It lit up like christmas lights, illuminating the entire room. The monster moaned and shrank as the fire consumed it. It writhed and shook as it burned, whipping the dead scientists arms around.

The fire died out slowly, leaving behind the toasted corpses and a small, ember dotted pool of black liquid. Purple smoke rose from the corpses, and the last bits of goo bubbled and died. Aaron and Philip watched it melt into nothing, and stood in silence for a moment.

Philip’s eyes were locked onto the charred, dismembered bodies. His breath was uneven, and quiet tears rolled down his face. He reached into his pocket and produced a small, gold embroidered handkerchief. He dabbed his eyes, crumpled up the handkerchief, and forced it back into his pocket.

Aaron took off his hat and awkwardly put his hand on Philip. 

“I’m uh, sorry for your loss,” Aaron mumbled, “were they uh, close to you?”

Philip nodded, still staring at the pieces.

Aaron took his hand off Philip and stuffed it in his pocket. Aaron readjusted his hat onto his head, and walked to the door.

“I’ll leave you to uh, mourn, for a minute.”

Aaron headed outside, rubbing his arms instinctively as the wind hit him. 

Philip stayed behind, standing before what remained in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two short chapters in one night for the soul! Updates should become more frequent after these last two weeks of school. Also thinking about going beyond my goal of 12 chapters. I still have a decent amount to write about, and the idea of three packed chapters is a bit gross tbh. We'll see what happens I guess??


End file.
